


Snow Angel

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:51:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen should have taken it as a sign when he hadn't even been able to get in his frozen popsicle of a car, let alone drive it. He should have stayed in bed and, all in all, it was shaping up to be one pretty fucking fine Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Angel

**Author's Note:**

> 2012 spn_j2_xmas gift for pigeongirl99.

Snow swirled around Jensen's hunched shoulders, biting at his ears. He sucked in a harsh breath and then exhaled just as quickly as the cold air burned his lungs. " _Fuck,_ " he swore, jumping from one foot to the other and rubbing his hands against his arms. He should have worn a heavier coat. Or maybe gloves. He dropped to his knees in the snow bank and dug his fingers into the cold snow underneath his tires. Hell, he should have done a lot of things. 

For one, he should have taken it as a sign when he hadn't even been able to _get in_ his car, let alone drive it. The pounding sleet of last night had frozen all four doors of his Impala as tightly shut as Fort Knox. He'd wasted ten minutes prying at them before conceding and retreating back to his apartment to locate an empty jug. At the time, he'd thought that the last glass of apple juice had been a worthy sacrifice because 2 quarts of hot water later, he'd been in business, sliding into the driver's side seat and starting the car.

Of course, then he'd been stuck in the driveway but, really, what had he expected when he'd had to melt an Impala-shaped glacier just for the chance? He'd sighed, hoped like Hell that the plane would be running late too, and had rocked his car in place. Three times of pulling forward only to gun it in reverse and one near miss of the mailbox rack later, he'd been out on the street, facing down the army of snowdrifts. "Half the battle right there," he'd muttered, figuring that once he got off the side street that he lived on and onto the main road, that he'd be fine.

He should have stayed in bed. It was shaping up to be one pretty fine fucking Christmas.

Jensen shook his fingers, trying to get feeling back in them. They'd progressed from stinging hot, the snow cold enough to burn, to dead numbness. He winced as needles danced along his skin and shoved his hands into his pockets. Hopefully that would be good enough.

The ditch hadn't been his fault, but, then again, it usually never was. Hadn't necessarily been the road's fault, either. When Jensen had decided to ignore the weatherman's advice to stay inside, blowing him off and figuring that things would be just fine, he'd forgotten to take something important into account: in the winter, it wasn't necessarily the _roads_ that were dangerous, but the other people _on_ the roads. Jensen growled to himself, muttering curses about the Dodge that had decided to take its half of the street out of the middle, hoping that his anger would keep him warmer than his jacket. The jackass hadn't even stopped to see if Jensen was okay and that was bad karma—especially this close to Christmas. Where was all that "good will" that was supposed to be so plentiful this time of year? 

Using his elbow, he dug a little deeper underneath his tires. Sometime, he'd have to run out of snow and finally hit dirt, but he didn't know how much longer he had to go. "Better be fucking enough," he muttered and pushed himself off his knees.

Compared to outside, it was summer in the car, the heat running at full blast and the radio was still cheerfully singing a pop song like it hadn't a care in the world: Jensen's own little oasis in the middle of a blizzard that would last just as long as his gas tank did. Jensen looked out his windshield at the solid white bank in front of him and then threw the car into reverse. He prayed for traction and pushed down on the gas pedal. This was his fourth attempt.

Jensen's heart sank when his only reward was the high whine of his wheels spinning in place. He punched the steering wheel. "Damn it!"

A quick glance at the clock told him that he was already going to be late. Whether he was going to miss his plane or not, that was another story. He should probably call the airport and find out and then suck it up and call a tow truck. It was either that or give up and accept that he was going to be stuck here until spring.

Only… Jensen patted his pockets, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. He checked the center console and the glove box and underneath the seat just to be sure but he already knew the answer. His cell phone was still at his apartment, sitting uselessly on the counter, fully charged. "Fuck." He dropped his head against the steering wheel. He was in between towns and the closest house was at least a mile away which, in current conditions, might as well have been across the ocean. He was going exactly nowhere until the blizzard died down.

Jensen slumped in the seat and pondered his existence. He hadn't even thought to put an extra blanket in the car. He was still a Texas boy at heart and, damn it, they really ought to have an orientation meeting or something when you moved north. 

The radio DJs joked with each other about how anyone with any sense was staying inside today and how they didn't have any internet or phones so, "Sorry you can't call in!" They were warm, though, and where they needed to be, and for a little while Jensen hated them. The clock kept ticking away the minutes while the wind howled outside, the snow battering at his car and no doubt burying him deeper. The snow on his pants melted into cold, wet patches.

An hour went by and Jensen wondered if there were even _plows_ out on the road or if this weather was too much for them, too. Maybe the entire area had called it a wash and let the drivers have a snow day. They were probably doing the smart thing and staying inside—like Jensen should have done. He should have called his parents and let them know that there was no way that he was going to be able to make his flight, that he was stuck in his apartment and that he'd see them after Christmas, thank you very much and how's the family.

He had half a tank of gas and hopefully the storm would end before he ran out because he didn't even want to think of the alternative. He stared out the snow covered windshield, morose and lost in his own misery, counting down the hours, until a flash of light in his rearview mirror caught his eye. He jerked his head and then turned around, staring behind him. The back window was mostly covered too, allowing only patches of the outside world to show, but those were definitely headlights that were shining through. Jensen fumbled for the door, grabbing the latch and tumbling out of the car.

He landed on his knees in the snow but quickly pushed himself to his feet and scrambled for the road. "Hey!" he shouted against the wind, his voice being carried away almost as soon as it left his mouth. "Hey!" He waved his arms, trying to flag down the other driver.

A black Silverado emerged from the swirling snow, moving cautiously down the road, its large engine rumbling. It slowed as Jensen approached from the shoulder, stopping completely just a few feet from him. The door opened and a man leaned out, wearing a heavy Carhartt and jeans, his hands covered by thick gloves: Jensen's own personal, winterized guardian angel. "Need some help?" the man asked, his voice low and gruff in the wind.

Jensen could have kissed the man's feet. "I'm stuck." He pointed towards his car. The tracks that he'd made going in were still visible but barely.

The man nodded. "Got a chain in back," he said, climbing out. Backlit by the hazy, snow-filtered light of the cab, he stood a little taller than Jensen and looked infinitely more prepared for the weather, from his gray scarf to his heavy boots. His hair was a shock of black against the snow and a dark, rough stubble covered the lower half of his face. He thumped Jensen on the shoulder and jerked his head back a the cab. "Name's Jeff. I got an extra pair of gloves back behind the seat. You want 'em?"

Grateful, Jensen nodded. "Jensen. And yeah."

Jeff stepped back up against the truck to pull out a pair of black gloves. He tossed them Jensen's way and moved to the car, Jensen trailing after him like a lost lamb. "Looks pretty stuck," Jeff said, the wind whipping at his words. "I don't know if we're going to be able to move this." He dropped to his knees and peered under the back end of the Impala. Automatically, Jensen's eyes dropped down to check out another kind of back end and he was tempted to stare, but he quickly moved his sight line back up before he was caught. Jensen knew that he needed help in pretty much all senses of the word but even his dick knew that getting the car free was a priority. Plus, it seemed just a little blasphemous… Jensen crossed his arms and tried to brace against the icy bluster of the blizzard. 

Jeff pulled himself out of the ditch, bending to dust off his knees with hard thumps of his gloves. He stood close to Jensen, blocking the wind for a brief moment and Jensen fought the urge to lean into him. The man seemed to radiate heat, even through the heavy coat. "I suppose it can't hurt to try," Jeff said. "Well, probably not, you know?" He raised his eyebrows, obviously expecting an answer though Jensen didn't even know what the question was. Jensen nodded in vague agreement, feeling somewhat useless and definitely lost. He knew next to nothing about cars and, at the moment, he wasn't up to pretending otherwise. "Okay." Jeff dragged a long length of chain from the backend of his truck, holding it in coiled loops. "We'll hook it up and see if we can't get you out of there." The chain clinked as Jeff grabbed up an end of it and attached it to his truck. He threw the rest of it over a shoulder and fought the snow back to the car. "Put it in neutral," he said and disappeared back underneath.

Bowing his head and wishing again that he'd just had the common sense to stay home, Jensen slid down into the ditch. The snow rode up his side, pushing his jacket and his shirt up and leaving a streak of cold against his skin. He shivered, shaking out the snow as best as he was able, and then tumbled back into his car. The DJs were talking about the weather again and Jensen turned them off.

Jensen heard the truck rev up, pulling away, heard the chain snaking its way through the snow, and then felt the Impala jerk to the side. He rocked forward and braced himself against the steering wheel to keep his face out of the dashboard. The snow crunched underneath the Impala's tires as the car was slowly pulled backwards, a slow-motion rewind of Jensen's earlier journey.

Cocooned as he was in the snow-covered car, Jensen could only rely on what he heard and felt as a barometer of the events happening outside. He wished that he would have thought to have cleaned off the back window at least, if only to see the truck. He heard the powerful wheels spin on the icy road, felt the tugging stop, and all he could do was sit and stare at his car's interior. Jeff's truck rumbled behind him and revved up again. The Impala jerked another foot backwards, its tilt leveling out, and then Jensen felt himself traveling smoothly backward and he sighed in relief. Thank _God_.

And Jeff. 

The chain clanked as it went slack and Jensen put the Impala in park and got out. Jeff swung out of his truck, already leaning down to disconnect the two vehicles. Jensen shivered, standing in the wind and feeling awkward. "Thank you," he said, moving closer to be heard over the wind.

"Yep," Jeff replied, ducking underneath Jensen's car again. "Anytime." He sat up, starting to coil the length of chain around his forearm. His lips were red from the cold and wet from where he licked them. "You live around here?"

Jensen winced, reminded that he was still in the middle of nowhere, the airport half an hour ahead him on a good day and his apartment no closer. "No, still got a ways to go."

Jeff frowned at him, his brows furling downward. "This is gettin' worse by the minute." A burst of snow blew into Jensen's face and Jensen ducked into his jacket like a turtle. He hadn't needed the reminder. Jeff finished wrapping up the chain and looked at Jensen again. "You got anybody to call?"

"What?"

Jeff shook his head. "Your car ain't going to make it down this stretch. Wouldn't have been out here myself if I've had the choice." He eyed the Impala, his lips twisting like he'd judged it wanting and Jensen was too tired to feel offended. Jeff was just being honest. "Listen, my place is just up the road. How about you stay there until the worst of it's over?"

Jensen stared at Jeff, considering his choices. They weren't all that great. Jeff was right. The weather had steadily been getting worse since Jensen had left home and there was a very good chance that he'd end up right back in the ditch, with no guardian angel in a Chevy Silverado to come rescue him again. On the other hand, though, he didn't even know Jeff's _last name_ and, despite how attractive the man might be, that didn't bode well. Jensen wasn't sure just how much he wanted to test his luck today. It never ran towards the 'meeting hot, available hunks in random chance encounters' variety, anyway. Jensen tended to get more stuck with 'married' or 'emotionally stunted.' Plus, for all Jensen knew, Jeff could be a serial killer prowling around for a victim. Of course, that would make him a serial killer looking for someone stupid enough to be in a blizzard before they froze to death without him, so that scenario had some possible holes in it.

Jeff shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable what with the snowstorm and Jensen leaving the invitation hanging in the wind. "You don't—"

"I'd appreciate it," Jensen said, interrupting Jeff before he could take the offer back. "Just until the storm's done."

"Just until the storm's done," Jeff agreed and smiled. It was still snowing and cold as it ever was but Jensen felt a spark of heat.

* * *

If it hadn't been for Jeff's taillights, nearly hypnotic in the otherwise field of pure white, Jensen was sure that he would have ended up right back in the ditch. The snow seemed to turn him around, mix him up until he wasn't sure which way was up anymore. He'd driven this particular stretch of road many times before but yet, in the snow, it was as if he was in another country entirely. 

There were long lines of trees beyond the shoulder, Jensen knew, but he couldn't see them through the snow. He had no idea where they were or how far that they'd driven. He was just trusting that Jeff knew where he was going.

Jeff slowed, braking long before Jensen saw the red mailbox, and then turned at a barely visible break in the snow banks, heading down a long, tree-lined road. Jensen flipped on his blinker—out of sheer habit—and followed him. The trees closed in around them, the long branches hanging overhead, dripping globs of snow on the pathway. Jensen frowned in confusion when Jeff stopped in the center and got out, jogging to Jensen's car. Jeff rapped his knuckles against Jensen's window.

"Path gets pretty bad up ahead," Jeff said, turning his head to glance at where they were heading and then looking back at Jensen. "Best to park here and just take the truck." Jensen nodded and fumbled for his seat belt. Jeff stepped back to let him out.

The interior of Jeff's truck was a soft gray and relatively clean. The dash had a little bit of dust and an empty Coke bottle rolled on the floor. Jensen glanced at the clock and wondered if his plane had taken off without him or if it was grounded, too. Johnny Cash crooned in his ear about a burning ring of fire.

"Sorry," Jeff said as he shut the door behind him. Without the harsh whistle of the storm, his voice was soft and smooth. He gave Jensen an apologetic smile. "There's an open stretch up ahead that gets drifted over. If you don't have four wheel drive, you can't make it through. We can get your car later." His eyes were a warm brown, crinkling at the corners.

Jensen shook his head. "Sure. Thanks." The thank yous were starting to sound pretty weak but Jensen didn't know what else to say. How did you thank a guy that had emerged from a howling snowstorm and possibly saved your life? Short of giving him wings and some Biblical verses, of course.

The truck rolled forward again, pushing through the storm, the engine a rumbling purr. "You lived up here long?" Jeff asked and Jensen winced.

"Long enough to know better," he replied, a small, self-deprecating chuckle at his own stupidity rattling in his throat. "Listen, I really appreciate this. I mean, if you hadn't of been there…"

Jeff glanced over at Jensen and smiled warmly. "The storm would have eventually died down enough for you to make it to Margie Schmidt's house." Jensen appreciated being given the benefit of a doubt, though he didn't think he deserved it. "Or a plow would have found you." He shrugged. "Or eventually, someone would have called me out to rescue you, anyway." He laughed at Jensen's questioning look, a low chuckle that curled around Jensen's insides. "Paramedic," he explained. "I was just coming back from a call when I found you. Though, it looks like that's that last one that I'm going to be taking for awhile." He wrinkled his brow at the swirling snow. "If this keeps up, it won't be too long before even the truck's going to have a hard time getting anywhere." 

Jensen nodded, feeling sick. He should have left last week when Mama had first asked him to. She'd been worried about the storm but he'd assured her that it was no big deal. "Come on, Mama, it's Canada. These things happen all the time and no one even blinks up here." Jensen should have choked on those words. Give him three years and he apparently thought that he was an expert on all things Canadian.

They plowed through what looked to be a solid snow drift, the mound of white rising past the bottom of the truck and Jeff's mouth firmed into a hard line as they climbed what was shaping up to be a mountain of accumulation. Jensen's Impala would have ended up becoming part of the drift. Beyond the newly forming mountain range was another stretch of solid wind and snow before Jeff finally turned off into a half-hidden driveway.

A two-story house appeared in the trees, the snow piling high on its overhanging eaves and a waterfall of ice flowing down one side of the front porch. Jeff pulled forward into the garage, the white door squealing as it rolled up inside. He parked and leaned over to look at Jensen as the garage door closed behind him. "Least we won't have to worry about losing power," he said. "The generator should last." Jensen blinked, having to mentally replay what Jeff had said because, with Jeff so close, in the confines of the cab, Jensen kind of, maybe, possibly wanted to lean forward too and meet Jeff in the middle. He nodded and jumped out of the truck before he did something stupid enough to make taking on a Canadian blizzard look smart.

Jeff opened the side door which led into a kitchen, the counter curving around to separate it from the dining room. "Make yourself at home," Jeff told him, pulling off his gloves. He opened a closet and put his jacket on a hanger then kneeled down to unlace his boots. "I'll, uh, have to make up the guest room," he said, looking apologetic again. "Haven't needed one since the ex-wife left." Jensen glanced at Jeff's left hand, searching for the ring he'd already been told that he wasn't going to find. Jeff shook his head, ruefully, catching the look. "She knew it wouldn't work long before I did." He tossed his boots into the closet and headed for the stairs against the far wall. "I'll be right back. There's beer in the fridge and TV's in the next room."

Jensen watched Jeff climb the stairs until he disappeared from view, then turned to survey the house. He was standing in the kitchen, on a hardwood floor that stretched up through the dining room with its small dinette set and down a hallway. The walls were a light blue, almost white, and trimmed with what looked to be actual wood. Not wanting to be rude, he toed off his shoes and set them on a black mat to finish melting then hung his jacket up beside Jeff's. The gloves, he placed on the top shelf, not quite sure what to do with them. 

He moved forward into the house, passing a white refrigerator, and he paused, looking at the magnets and pictures. A few letters of the alphabet spelled out 'Lizzie' which Jensen guessed was the name of the little girl in the picture with the swing set. She looked happy, about seven years old, her brown hair done up into pigtails with pink ribbon, and she had Jeff's smiling eyes. A daughter, Jensen supposed. He wondered how often Jeff got to see her; Jeff hadn't mentioned her, so the ex-wife must have had custody. His eyes skimmed past a crayon drawing before he opened the refrigerator door, feeling like he was being nosy by looking and not wanting to pry. Sure, Jeff had it out on display but this was his house: he was supposed to. That didn't mean that Jensen had to examine and analyze every little thing. He grabbed a Labatt off the top shelf and left the room, moving around the corner to where he supposed the living room was.

He had to take a minute. The fireplace had been unexpected. It shouldn't have been but it was. It took up a corner of the room, the stonework pushing outward, with a black grate zigzagging across the front of it. Wood was stacked behind, waiting to be used. Cedar boughs spread across the mantle, dripping down the sides and Jensen was once again reminded that Christmas was only two days away.

The TV was mounted to the adjoining wall, facing a long, beige couch, and Jensen perched on the edge of a cushion, not quite enough at ease to sit down all the way. He glanced around for a remote and frowned when he found three lined up on the coffee table. They were all nearly identical, long and black with too many buttons. Jensen shrugged and opened his beer. He'd let Jeff figure it out.

In the other corner, a trimmed tree stretched almost to the ceiling, topped with a lighted angel that swirled through the colors of the rainbow. The tree was decked out in pink and purple bows and Jensen revisited the concept of a little girl named Lizzie. Jeff must have had her often enough to decorate. Underneath were four presents, wrapped with Disney princesses. Feeling nosy again, Jensen turned away.

Jensen hadn't even bothered to put a tree up this year. Why spend the money to decorate when he was going to spend Christmas down in Texas? He'd spent the extra money on the presents sitting in the trunk of his car. He groaned. God, it was _Christmas_. The presents would keep just fine but his parents wouldn't. Jensen supposed he'd have to ask Jeff for yet another favor to borrow his phone and at this rate, he was going to end up owing the man his soul.

* * *

There was simply no way that Jeff Morgan _("Like the rum," Jeff had said with a grin)_ was a real person, Jensen thought. The man was really some kind of angel living on Earth, like Jensen's first impression of him, because no one was this nice—not even his neighbors and he'd thought that they were pretty freaking nice when he'd first moved in. Jensen was never going to be able to repay him.

Jensen was lounging on the couch, freshly showered, in a pair of Jeff's sweats, with a discarded soup bowl and what was left of his third beer sitting on the table beside him. Jeff had even taught Jensen how to control the monstrosity of an entertainment center he had hidden away ( _five_ remotes, thank you, with surround sound), and had given Jensen control. The fireplace crackled happily in the corner, casting shadows across the room. It had been lit as soon as Jeff had realized that Jensen had a fascination for it. Jensen kept sneaking glances at Jeff out of the corner of his eye, wondering when the other shoe was going to drop.

He'd grown up in a place where people rarely did things purely out of the goodness of their hearts, always wanting something in return for their good deed. Jeff, though, didn't seem to want anything and he was gorgeous to boot, a nice solid body underneath his white Henley and jeans. Jensen wondered what he'd done to deserve meeting him.

Or maybe that was it. Jensen snuck another glance Jeff's way and felt a flush starting to creep up his throat. He had to stop doing that. He was going to start creeping Jeff out in a minute and Jensen had no business thinking such things about his nice, generous, and, by all accounts, most likely straight savior. During dinner, Jeff had talked about his daughter, mostly to jokingly apologize for the collection of ponies in the corner and the Jasmine pillow that Jensen was going to be sleeping with. He hadn't talked anymore about his ex-wife nor mentioned a girlfriend but Jensen knew that didn't necessarily mean anything. Jeff was temptation sitting on the opposite end of the couch, laughing like a dork at the Big Bang Theory. Jensen drained the last of his Labatt and tried to think unsexy thoughts. Like maybe the lecture he was going to get when he finally made it home.

"Want another?" Jeff gestured at Jensen's empty beer as he got to his feet. Jensen stared at the bottle and shook his head. No. No, he did not want another. Jeff was getting harder and harder to resist with each beer, sitting there, being amazing just by breathing, and Jensen didn't need to screw things up by kissing the man. "You sure?" Jeff asked and drained the last of his own bottle. Jensen most definitely did not watch how his throat worked as he swallowed. "I'm out, too."

"Okay," Jensen said, giving in and mentally cursing himself as a weak-willed idiot. 

Jeff smiled and Jensen melted like a snowman in a greenhouse. "There you go."

When Jeff returned, he sat back down on the couch and handed Jensen a cold bottle. He might have said something; Jensen didn't know. He didn't hear him. Jensen took the bottle, chugged a quarter of it and then set it aside and rolled up onto his knees. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, and he might as well just accept it on his own terms. He only caught Jeff's slow blink of confusion before he connected their lips together.

A soft, puzzled sound rumbled in Jeff's throat as he froze, shocked into letting Jensen do as he liked and alarms bells rang in Jensen's head. Jensen jerked upward, feeling the beer settle into the bottom of his stomach as he stared down at Jeff. "Sorry," he said, jumping up off the couch to go find the nearest snow bank before Jeff helped him there. Of course, Jeff being Jeff, he'd probably be too nice to do that because didn't that just _figure._

Before he could get more than a step away, Jeff grabbed his wrist and Jensen found himself being yanked backward. He landed sprawled on his back in Jeff's lap and it was his turn to make that soft, puzzled sound when Jeff tilted his chin up and kissed him. It started tentative, as if Jeff wasn't quite sure of himself before the confidence kicked in and Jensen's toes curled. Stubble scraped against Jensen's skin as Jeff pressed downward. "God, yes," Jeff murmured in between quick, solid kisses. His tongue licked at Jensen's lips, asking, and, reeling, wondering just how long his luck was going to hold, Jensen buried his hands in Jeff's thick, black hair and kissed him back. 

It was minutes, hours, before they broke, time slowing to a crawl. Jensen's hands were snaked underneath Jeff's shirt, his fingers feathering through the smattering of hair there while Jeff's had spread just under the waistband of Jensen's borrowed sweats. Jensen panted, dazed, and frowned. "I thought you were straight…?" Jeff grunted and it could have meant anything from 'Why are you asking?' to 'Does it matter?' because he kissed Jensen again.

Jensen rolled, shifting on top of Jeff and forgetting where he was, just wanting to get more of Jeff. He tried to gain some leverage, get his knees underneath of him, and he tumbled off Jeff's lap, crashing to the floor. Jeff leaned forward and quirked a smile. "Sorry," he said, amusement coloring his tone. "You okay?" Jensen lurched upward, moving between Jeff's thighs and Jeff's smile quickly dissolved into a shaky, shuddering breath. He gripped Jeff's head again, liking how Jeff's hair felt between his fingers, and held him still to kiss him once more. He bit Jeff's bottom lip and Jeff growled. It broke something inside of Jensen.

Shivering, Jensen turned his head, finding it hard to breathe, and fumbled for Jeff's fly. His fingers skittered over the zipper uselessly, the knowledge of how to operate one temporarily escaping him. Jeff groaned low in his throat and shoved Jensen's hands away to unzip his jeans himself. That was better. Jensen licked his lips impatiently as Jeff pulled his cock free from his boxers, then lunged forward, bending his head down. His eyes fluttered closed as he got his mouth around Jeff, the pleasure making him moan. 

Jeff's fingers danced along the side of Jensen's face, his breathing slow and measured: deliberate and in control. Jensen wanted to feel him lose it. Sucking hard, Jensen slid down as far as he could and hummed at Jeff's small gasp. Grasping fingers tugged at Jensen's hair, holding on. He pulled back, leaving just the tip of Jeff's cock in his mouth and flicked his tongue at the head, swirling and teasing. Jeff's thighs trembled underneath his hands. Jensen delved into Jeff's jeans, slipping underneath his boxers and wrapping a hand around the base of his shaft. 

He lifted his eyes to meet Jeff's, feeling powerful, watching as Jeff tipped his head back with a groan, his mouth open and panting. Jensen closed his eyes again, losing himself in the slick, wet sounds and the feeling of his mouth stretched around Jeff's cock.

Jeff stiffened, his body tightening, and he pulled at Jensen's hair in warning. Jensen sat back on his heels, his hand still pumping. Jeff came with a soft moan, spilling on his shirt, and Jensen licked his lips, wondering how it would taste.

"Aw, c'mere," Jeff growled, and he hauled Jensen upwards, shoving him onto the couch. Jensen dropped his head against the arm and looked down the length of his body at Jeff, who'd risen above him. "Knees aren't what they used to be," Jeff muttered and buried his face in Jensen's crotch, breathing deep.

"S'okay." Jensen combed his hands through Jeff's hair, raking it back over and over. Jeff mouthed over the bulge in Jensen's pants, wetting the fabric. Jensen moaned and spread his legs wider, throwing one over the back of the couch. His hands tightened in Jeff's hair until Jeff winced, his own hand reaching up to grip Jensen's.

"Easy," he murmured and Jensen loosened his hold. "What is your fascination…?" If Jeff was expecting an answer, he didn't give Jensen anytime to think of one. He stretched the elastic waistband of Jensen's sweats to ease them and his underwear down over his hips as soon as the question was asked and the ability to form coherent sentences flew out of Jensen's immediate skill set. He squirmed against the couch cushions, biting his lip and trying not to seem too eager. It had definitely been a lot longer than he would have liked and this was probably going to be over real soon.

Jeff's hands, callused but gentle, glided over Jensen's bared skin, skimming up over his hip to spread around Jensen's cock in a deliberate tease, close but not touching. Jensen rocked upwards. "Fuck…" No, he wasn't going to last long at all.

Warm air tickled his sensitive skin as Jeff exhaled and Jensen groaned. He was going to die before Jeff even got his mouth on him. "Please…" His hands tightened in Jeff's hair again and Jeff took the hit.

Wet warmth surrounded Jensen's cock and his eyes slammed shut as sparks shot up his spine. He jerked upward into the soft heat but Jeff's hands clapped around him like vice grips, forcing him back down.

Jeff fell into a steady rhythm, his mouth swallowing Jensen down, and there was no doubt in Jensen's mind that Jeff had blown a guy before. Nobody was that good without more than a little bit of practice. Jensen shuddered and shook with every roll of Jeff's teasing tongue. His world narrowed to just the couch, Jeff, and the here and now. When Jeff reached down to cradle his balls, with one daring finger slipping lower, Jensen's eyes shot open. "Oh, shit, shit, shit—I'm gonna—" He didn't need to finish the sentence; Jeff pulled back and shoved Jensen's shirt up to watch him make a mess off his stomach. Jensen arched upward, his heels digging into the couch and the floor and rolled back down like a wave, breathing hard.

Jeff let him go, moving into a sitting position. "Well," he said, rubbing at his face. "Didn't expect that." He glanced down at his shirt, pulling it out to survey the damage.

Jensen's eyes fluttered open and he stared up at the textured pattern of Jeff's ceiling. He dared a glance at Jeff before deciding that, overall, the ceiling was the safer choice. "Me, neither," he admitted. Hell, if things had gone right today, he would have been on a plane, squeezed into one of the sorry excuses for seats, praying for little big of leg room. To say that he hadn't been expecting to have toe-curling sex with his own personal snow angel was an understatement. 

"It was good, though." Jeff's hand cupped Jensen's knee. Jensen swallowed, feeling his heart constrict in his chest.

"Yeah." Jensen was going to screw this up somehow. Guaranteed. That was just how it went for him.

"Could…" Jeff trailed off and Jensen sat up, finally catching the look on Jeff's face and the realization hit him with all the subtlety of the storm still raging outside. Jeff was as uncertain about this as he was.

"Yeah," Jensen said, finishing Jeff's sentence without hearing the words. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Jeff smiled, looking relieved, and Jensen couldn't help but give him an answering grin. "Good." He rubbed Jensen's knee, endearingly awkward, and Jensen dropped his hand on top of Jeff's. "I'm not straight," Jeff said. Jensen raised an eyebrow—he'd figured that out somewhere between the kissing and the expert blowjob—and Jeff gave the rest of his confession to the wall. "Just took me a little longer to figure it out than it should have."

Jensen gave Jeff's hand a squeeze, feeling Jeff squeeze back, and try as he might, he couldn't keep the dopey grin off his face. Warm, with the crackling of the fireplace filling the room, Jensen thought that maybe, just maybe, he was glad he'd gotten out of bed today, that this was possibly shaping up to be the best Christmas he'd ever had.


End file.
